


Eddsworld Oneshots

by trashboiparker



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Arguing, Asexuality, Astraphobia, Childhood Trauma, Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gender Dysphoria, Healthy Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Running Away, Trans Character, edd is a good friend, late night situations, powerade is underrated, selective mutism, tom has tummy troubles, tord is actually a good person, why is that not an existing tag?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28095888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashboiparker/pseuds/trashboiparker
Summary: A collection of Eddsworld oneshots written by yours truly, most of which will probably be a tad bit angsty and/or fluffy. No smut though, that makes me uncomfortable, sorry. If there is anything triggering, I will put a warning at the beginning of the chapter.//✯//(Also, just btw most of these will probably be Tom-centric, I have a bad habit of projecting on him lol sorry)...(Rated mature for mild language and possibly triggering subjects)
Relationships: Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Tom/Tord (Eddsworld)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	1. Strained Silence

Thomas sighed, hand hesitating on the knob of their front door.

He'd had such a rough day at work today, leaving him so emotionally exhausted to the point he was hardly able to muster up enough energy to keep himself upright.

But, he knew he had to be strong. Tord was home, and he needed to be happy for Tord. God knows what tord would do if he found out he'd had a bad day.

So, he sucked in a breath, regained his composure, and turned the handle.

As expected, Tord was sitting on the couch, his hand frequenting the small bowl of pretzels on the coffee table as he watched season 5 of _Parks and Rec_.

"Ah, hello Tom," Tord smiled. Tom smiled and waved back, mouthing an inaudible 'hi' under his breath. He loved Tord's smile. He loved the way his eyes scrunched up because his rosy cheeks took up all the space on his face, he loved the way his toothy way of grinning showed his small tooth gap, and he loved the fact that (for whatever reason) he'd always reminded tom of a cat, despite that he didn't have any cat-like features. Tord had the kind of smile that left other people smiling, the kind of smile that you remembered. Though he'd seen it practically every day of his life, Tord's smile always made him feel giddy inside, like he was still a teenager, hopelessly in love with the new kid.

"You're just in time for my favorite episode," tord mentioned as tom set his bag and wallet on the counter, joining tord on the worn couch.

"Tord, all of these are your favorite episodes." tom joked, voice quiet as he nudged tord in the arm.

Tord chuckled. "Come on, you know season five is obviously the best. It's not being overtaken by the whole 'giant hole that we're going to make into a park' deal, it's got some of the best episodes and it's right before characters start to get boring. You have to admit that it's the peak of the series." Tord explained lightheartedly, wrapping one arm over Tom's shoulders. Tom tensed briefly, before easing his muscles back into their naturally taut position.

"Yeah sure whatever." tom smiled. "What episode is this?" he asked, stealing the remote and turning up the volume a few notches.

"The one where Ron meets Diane."

"Aw man, I love this one," Tom mumbled.

It was somewhat quiet for a moment, the two of them enjoying Andy's antics as he played princess with Diane's kids.

"So how was work today? You seem tense," Tord asked hesitantly. He knew tom wasn't particularly fond of his job, probably wanting to prod him for any signs that he'd had another attack. Tord hadn't really trusted Tom after his boss had sent him home after a particularly bad one. Tom was surprised she hadn't opted to fire him after the whole ordeal.

"It was fine, I guess.." Tom said, his voice drowned in a whisper.

That was something he couldn't stand. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to control the volume of his voice. He felt bad for basically forcing Tord to listen harder when talking to him after repeatedly asking for Tom to "speak up".

Tord's grip on Tom's shoulder tightened ever-so-slightly.

"Aw, I know that face. What happened?" Tord asked, his voice becoming more serious in nature, though still having the soft undertone it always did.

Tom avoided looking at tord, another small thing he'd noticed about himself. He could never bring himself to look directly at anyone's face without wanting to cry.

"Tom, you know you can talk to me. What's wrong?" his voice was soft and welcoming, yet almost sad in a way.

Tom opened his mouth, but shut it right afterward. Why did he have to be so obdurate? It wasn't that hard, just open your mouth and let the words come out.

But what words was he even going to say? "Sorry I seem so depressed, a customer yelled at me today because I couldn't say anything, the same problem I've had for years"? It was the same thing time and time again, he would've thought tord would be used to this kind of stuff by now.

But he knew that talking about it would help; it always did. It felt so nice to get stuff like this off his chest. He also knew that Tord would go out of his way to make tom feel more comfortable as well.

"I-I," Tom started, barely above a whisper. He was trying so _hard_ , why couldn't he just get out a single goddamn sentence?

"It's ok, take your time.." tord said, rubbing tom's shoulder lightly.

Tom took a slow breath in through his nose, exhaling it through his teeth. He could do this...

"T-today, at work, I couldn't- uhm, someone- a customer yelled at me because they.. Couldn't hear me.." tom's small voice trailed off at the end, eyes still fixated on the carpeted floor. His eyes strained, feeling the oncoming heat of tears behind his eyes. Why was this so hard to do? It was only tord...

"Oh, _honey_.." Tord whined, pulling tom in for a tight hug. Tom hugged back tightly, taking in the warm scent of coconut on Tord's freshly-washed t-shirt.

"Don't ever let them make you feel bad, babe. They're all assholes, don't let them make you think you're any less than you are." Tord said, practically squeezing the life out of poor Tom.

'I know,' Tom mouthed, half knowing that Tord couldn't hear him.

"You've been doing so well lately, don't let those idiots drag you down." Tord broke from the hug and placed a light kiss on tom's forehead, his hands still resting on tom's upper-arms.

He was right, Tom had been doing well, and he owed it all to Tord (who would never take credit for Tom's progression, despite the fact he was the only reason he was progressing at all). Any time they ordered takeout, he'd make Tom do the ordering and/or paying of the food, letting tom have time to rehearse and be ready to talk to the restaurant employee. Gradually (very, _very_ gradually, I might add) he was able to talk to them without rehearsing, which tord always rewarded him with a kiss for, telling him that he was proud of him for making it through.

There were days, however, where tom could barely get any words out at all, not even to tord. On days like those Tord would give Tom his space, but let him know that he would always be there for him. Tom usually stayed by Tord's side, using what little sign language they knew to communicate to each other.

Luckily for him, those days were fewer and far between, which meant a lot to the two, seeing as when they first met tom wasn't even able to wave hello at poor tord, Edd having to do all the talking for him. Back then Edd was one of the only people tom was able to talk comfortably around, and even then he had trouble with stuttering and low-volume.

"Hey, how's about we go get some ice cream and watch _Corpse bride_?" tord suggested, giving tom's nose a small 'boop' with the tip of his index finger.

Tom smiled and nodded, wiping the few tears that pricked the corner of his eyes. Tord knew that tom had a soft spot for Tim Burton films, _Corpse Bride_ being one of his favorites.

"Alright, you put the DVD in and I'll go get bowls," Tom nodded, pushing himself off the couch to dig through their endless collection of DVDs.

Tom and tord had built up quite the collection over the years, both of them keeping all their old movies from when they were kids. Tom's contribution to the collection mostly consisted of Disney movies and 70's horror films, Tord's being various seasons of _the Twilight Zone_ , romantic chick-flicks, and a VHS version of the musical _CATS_ , that of which he inherited from his grandmother.

Neither of the two cared too much about streaming services. If they wanted to watch something on Netflix they would usually go to matt's house or just record it whenever it came on one of their cable channels.

After the old DVD was put into its rightful place, tom switched the input from AUX to _BlueRay_ and went to the kitchen to help tord with the ice cream.

Tord was setting two bowls on the table when tom walked in, so he snatched the tub from the freezer and grabbed a large spoon to scoop it with.

"Here, let me get that," tord opted, seeing as tom was having trouble scooping the ice cream from its container. "Damn, this thing is hard as a rock!"

Once successfully scooping some for the both of them, tom placed a spoon in each bowl and they made their way back to the couch, conveniently right before the ads ended. Tord sat down first, letting tom lay on his chest, his legs occupying the rest of the small couch space.

Tom snuggled into tords chest, letting himself relax into the warmth of his body as he took a small bite of his ice cream. It felt nice to finally let loose after a hard day at work. His muscles were still sore and his head still tight from the stress of all of it, but when he was at home he could finally let it all go and enjoy himself around tord.

Tord rested his chin on Tom's head, his soft hair tickling tords neck.

"Hey tom?" tord said, his voice muffled by the ice cream in his mouth.

Tom hummed, not looking up from the tv screen.

"I'm proud of you." tom could tell tord was smiling, causing a small smile to erupt on his own face and his cheeks to flush.

"I love you," he said, pushing his face into the crook of Tord's neck.

"I love you too, babe." 


	2. Handsome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for: minor mentions of b00bies and graphic depictions of gender dysphoria. Be safe kiddos :)
> 
> *No romantic relationships (but lots of good friend vibes :) )*

Tom's brow furrowed.

He'd searched his bedroom high and low for it--he'd even gone through Edd's laundry, but his binder was nowhere in sight.

Usually he had backups for this particular situation, but he'd already worn them all multiple times throughout the past week, and all of them reeked. Unfortunately he had no time for laundry either.

But he knew he had a fourth one around here somewhere, he'd gotten it in a two-pack that was on sale, why couldn't he find it?

Tom ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He'd checked his dresser, his closet, all of his laundry (clean and dirty), he'd checked the washroom and the bathroom--where else could there be to look?

Tom was about to give up before he remembered, hadn't he seen one under the bed somewhere?

In a sudden flurry of hope, Tom kneeled down to his bed, tossing out boxes and backpacks of useless things he shoved under it throughout time. Gradually, as the space beneath his bed became more vacant, he began to lose all the hope he'd previously gained.

He had to go out into town in a half an hour and he had no binder to use.

A tightness found its way into Tom's throat, part of him wanting to cry.

What was he going to do?

He sat himself on his bed, thinking of some way he could possibly hide his chest without a binder. Layered clothing? Too hot outside. Crossed arms? He couldn't hold the position long enough. Maybe he could..

_No._

He promised he would never use bandages again. It was unsafe, what if he tied it wrong and broke a rib? It was too risky.

But what else could he do? He couldn't cancel his plans again, he'd already canceled going out with his friends a few times too many.

_Maybe_ , he thought, _just this once..._

Hesitantly, he got up and went to his dresser, pulling out an old, worn-out ace bandage from the top drawer. He weighed his options; be unsafe but feel better, cancel plans _again_ , or go without it and be miserable..

He figured the first option was his best bet.

He padded over to his bathroom (thank god he got first pick on bedrooms when they moved in--tom was the only one with a private bathroom) and stood in front of the mirror, awkwardly taking off his hoodie. He winced as he looked in his reflection.

He hated himself. He was so curvy, so round, and god--why the hell does he have to have such big breasts? He wanted to cry, scream, peel all his skin off--anything to just feel _okay_ with himself.

He shook the thoughts from his brain, hastily unrolling the thin bandages and wrapping them around himself. He was careful to make sure that his breasts faced upwards (he wasn't sure where he heard it, but he thought he heard someone say to always make sure your breasts don't point down when you bind, because it was bad for the tissue or something like that).

Once finished, he stopped to look at himself in the mirror again.

Obviously, his chest was a lot flatter, but something still felt _wrong_ about it.

_Maybe it isn't tight enough,_ he thought, so he unwrapped it and pulled the bandage around himself tighter. Still not satisfied, he did it again, and again, and again until he was having trouble taking a full breath in.

Something just felt so off about it. It wasn't the same as his binder, it wasn't _good enough_.

Tom suddenly felt hot, suffocatingly hot. His lungs tightened and his body just felt so _wrong, wrong,_ it wasn't _his body_. From his chest to his hips and the abhorred thing between his legs--it was like his consciousness was placed into someone else's body.

Tom sat down on his knees, suddenly feeling as though he couldn't stand. He crawled at his chest, despising the soft feeling of skin beneath his fingers. He squeezed them, pulled them, tried to rip them off his body and throw them to the ground so he could stomp on them and trample them into oblivion.

Tears started to pool in his eyes, his throat seizing up on him. He couldn't breathe right, taking in heaving breaths as his wide eyes stared into nothing.

A knock resounded through the small room, causing him to flinch slightly.

"Tom? You in there?" it was Edd. "We're getting ready to leave now."

_Tom._

That was his name.

Was it really?

No. He's just posing as someone else, stealing some unknown person's identity and using it as his own to hide his shame. He wasn't tom, he wasn't even a "He". He's just pretending, pretending to be someone he _isn't_.

"Tom? You okay in there?" Edd asked again. He heard the doorknob jiggle slightly, making his heart drop. He didn't lock it.

Tom let out a sob. This whole situation was so pathetic. Edd was going to see him like this and kick him out. They all had their own problems, they didn't need to deal with Tom's problems as well.

The door opened slowly, revealing Edd's face through the crack between the frame and the door. Tom hid his face, not wanting to be seen like this in front of anyone.

Edd frowned, kneeling down to put his hand on Tom's shoulder.

"Hey, tom, it's okay, you're okay," he said, but tom wasn't okay. He could never be _okay_. As long as he was trapped in this _fucking_ body he would _never be okay_.

"Hey, breathe with me, alright?" he said, taking Tom's hand and placing it on his chest. He took exaggerated breaths and waited for Tom to follow. Though, Tom was still having a hard time with the ace bandage wrapped so tightly around him. Upon noticing, Edd quickly grabbed tom's hoodie and handed it to him, mumbling something like "get ready to cover yourself" as he started to undo the bandages around tom's chest. Tom put his hoodie on as Edd took the last of the wrapping off, though he struggled a bit as his rapid breathing was making it hard to use his limbs.

"Stay here," Edd said as he got up, leaving Tom on the ground. He let out a miserable whine, the tightness in his chest worsening at the lack of any sort of binder. His hands made their way back up to his breasts, gripping and clawing at them, he wanted them off, off, _off-_

Edd came back with one of Tom's used binders in hand and kneeled back down to Tom's level, prying tom's hands off his chest and holding them in his own.

"Hey, deep breaths, tom," he said. Tom faced away from Edd but tried anyway. He got a few somewhat longer breaths, so Edd handed him the binder. Surprisingly it didn't smell bad like tom had noticed when he tried using it.

"I rubbed it down with some deodorant wipes I found in Matt's room. It shouldn't be as stinky anymore," Edd said. "Need help?" Tom nodded.

Tom took off his hoodie, leaving it hanging around his neck as he used his forearm to cover himself. Edd placed the binder against him and tom slid his arm through, mimicking the action on the opposite side when the time came. Edd clipped the binder up in the back, letting Tom put his hoodie back on.

Tom could finally feel a little better, the snake curling around his lungs loosened significantly and his body relaxed. Obviously it didn't relieve all of the dysphoria, but at least he was able to get a real inhale in without choking.

Edd stood up and offered Tom a hand, who took it graciously. Edd helped Tom to his feet, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Better?" he asked. Tom nodded. Edd opened his arms for a hug and Tom fell into him. He curled his fingers into Edd's green hoodie, enjoying the small comfort. He didn't want to let go.

"Guess what?" Edd asked. Tom hummed. Edd pulled away from the hug, but left his hands on Tom's shoulders.

"I think you look very handsome today." he smiled, ruffling tom's hair.

Tom's heart melted, happy tears coming to his eyes.

"Thank you, Edd." he said, his voice shaky and his face flushed.

Tom smiled. He was glad he had friends like Edd.  
  



	3. You're not Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this chapter is kind of smut? but nothing really happens? idk read to find out (but be careful if you're sensitive to that kind of stuff).
> 
> I don't believe a trigger warning is needed, but message me if something does come across as triggering and I will add a warning :)

Tom wasn't sure what he was supposed to be feeling right now.

It was Tord's birthday. They'd been dating for a couple of years now, and Tom thought that he should make it special for him this time. Considering they'd gone all this time without any.. "intimate activities", so to speak, Tom figured that a night spent alone in their bedroom would be a pretty good gift for him on his special day.

But Tom wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel about this whole situation. Actually, Tom was unsure about a lot of things right now.

Tom had never had any sexual experience with anyone before. He never really thought about it with any of his past partners, either that or he just couldn't imagine himself doing... "that", with anyone.

An uneasy feeling settled in his gut as tord closed the bedroom door behind him. He sat himself on the bed, reluctantly waiting for tord to follow. Tord seemed so happy, so excited to spend some time with his boyfriend like this--why didn't Tom feel the same?

Tord was about to take off his shirt, before he asked tom, "uh, are there any like, boundaries you have? Like, anything that might make you uncomfortable?" Tom felt grateful for Tord's respecting personality.

 _Don't touch me anywhere and I will be fine,_ his brain suggested, but he chose to ignore it.

"I uhm, actually I'm not really sure..." he trailed off, chuckling nervously. "I've never actually done this before.."

Tord laughed. "It's alright then, I'll go slow, that way you can tell me if you start feeling uncomfortable and I will stop. That sound good?" Tom nodded and tord placed a small kiss on his forehead.

Tord then proceeded to take off his shirt and unbuttoned his pants a bit. He reached for Tom's shirt to take it off, but Tom stopped him.

"Eh, can I keep my shirt on..?" he asked hesitantly.

"Of course, of course. Whatever makes you feel better." tord smiled at him, making tom blush.

An overwhelming sense of dread washed over Tom as tord unbuttoned Tom's jeans. Though he knew there was no real danger around, something in the back of his mind had a really bad feeling about this.

Tord kissed tom's neck, nipping at him gently with his teeth. Tom's skin itched everywhere tord touched him and he suddenly felt the desperate need to get away, but he sat still where he was. He wasn't going to ruin this for tord. He could deal with whatever feelings came up; anything to make tord happy.

"Fuck, I love you so much.." tord mumbled against tom's neck. Tom lifted himself up a bit to let Tord pulled his jeans off for him. Tord then did the same for his own pants, leaving the two of them both in their undies (plus tom's shirt).

Tom wanted to cry as Tord traced his hands along Tom's thighs, feeling exposed and open. He wanted to avert his eyes from tord, feeling as if he wasn't supposed to be seeing Tord's body so, undressed.

"You okay?" tord asked, stopping momentarily to take in tom's strained expression.

"Yeah, fine. I'm fine.." Tom said, looking away.

"If you say so," tord said, smirking at him. Tom smiled back at him, holding back the incoming tears in his eyes. His face was burning up and his chest felt tight, but he had to push through all of it, he had to make sure tord had a good time. He didn't he would just ruin Tord's birthday, then tord would be mad at him. Tord would remember it for years and he would always be "that guy" to him.

Tom almost gasped as tord pulled off his underwear, revealing his dick. Tom averted his eyes, fighting the urge to scrub them raw after witnessing it. But he reluctantly brought his gaze back to Tord's face and hoped tord hadn't noticed his reaction.

Tord reached towards tom's own underwear, preparing to take them off, and all of the sudden the whole world was in slow motion. Tom's brain screamed at him, _Danger! Danger! This isn't safe!_ It shouted, but Tom was frozen. His entire body was telling him that this wasn't right, and if tord saw his body he would be dirty or a slut or _something_. He wasn't sure exactly what but if his body was telling him it was wrong then it had to be wrong.

But he couldn't do anything to stop it. He was stuck still in his position on the bed, his fingers digging into the fabric below him so hard he was surprised he hadn't ripped the sheets. He desperately tried to move his mouth to form words to tell tord to _stop_ but neither his brain nor his limbs would respond to him.

But just as tord finally started to grab at Tom's underwear, his body listened to him.  
  
  


A crack resounded through the room.  
  
  


Tord stumbled backward, holding onto his nose.  
  
  


Tom opened his eyes--not realizing they'd been closed--to see his fist pointing outwards towards Tord's face.   
  
  


Almost instantly his face burned with shame, the oncoming tears now falling freely from his face. Tord just sat there, still in shock from the blow. He pulled his hands away from his face to find red splattered on his fingers.

Tom bolted up, slamming the door open and barreling down the hallway and into the bathroom. Tord tried to protest, but it was already too late.

✿✿✿

Tom spent about a half an hour in the bathroom, curled up in the empty bathtub as tord tried to console him through the door. Tom had locked it when he scrambled his way into the small room, leaving tord unable to see his poor boyfriend's face as he sobbed into his hands.

Tord was dressed now: he figured that they wouldn't be continuing their.. "Activity", after this incident. He also had two rolled-up paper towels shoved up his nostrils, keeping his nose pointed upwards to try and stop the blood flow.

Tom's cries had finally started to die down, so tord tried knocking on the door again.

"Tom?" he started, pressing his head against the door. "You doing okay in there?"

He didn't get a reply, but after a couple seconds of silence, the lock clicked on the door. Tord stood up, just in time for Tom to poke his teary face through the crack in the doorway.

Tord almost reached out to touch him, but wasn't sure if that would be okay with tom. After all, touch was part of the reason Tom had reacted in such a way in the first place.

But his theory was thrown out the window as tom fell onto Tord's chest, embracing him in a tight hug.

Tord was surprised at first, but pulled Tom close nonetheless. Tom pressed his face into Tord's chest, his eyes still wet and tearful.

"I'm sorry," Tom mumbled.

"It's okay, things happen.." tord responded, pressing a kiss into tom's hair. Tord could feel tom's chest tremble as he held back another sob.

"I didn't mean to.." he said.

"I know, I know... It's okay tom,"

They sat like that for a minute, Tom crying into Tord's chest as tord gently rocked him back and forth in their embrace.

"Tord?" Tom looked up to meet Tord's eyes, his voice wet. "I think there's something wrong with me.."

Tord almost started to cry. Tom sounded so shameful of himself--it broke his heart to hear.

"no, no there isn't anything wrong with you, tom.." Tord said, holding Tom tighter. "what do you mean?"

Tom sniffled. "Why can't I just enjoy sex like everyone else..?" he mumbled miserably. "Why does it feel so bad?"

"It's okay tom," he started, running a hand through tom's hair soothingly. "Everyone's different, you don't have to like it.."

"But what about you?" tom added, turning his head away shamefully. 

"It's really okay, tom. If you don't want to do that, then we don't ever have to do it again." tord smiled and pressed a small kiss into his forehead.

Tom almost started crying again. He didn't think tord would understand, he didn't think that tord would be okay with that. Tord had always been somewhat of a kinky person, he assumed that sex would have to be a requirement in their relationship.

Tom was so relieved that that wasn't the case. He was so grateful that Tord was so accepting of everything.

"Thank you, tord.." Tom said, tears leaking out of his eyes once again.

"Anything for you, babe."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is kind of short, but I really like the idea of relationships being respectful and consensual on both ends of the situation. Also just a disclaimer: not every asexual feels the exact same way, so if my point of view on it differs from yours, please don't hate me. This is just kind of how it feels for me.


	4. The Bathroom is my Safe Space

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRRRRYYYYYYY I promise promise promise that the next one won't be angsty please forgive meeeeee
> 
> (Trigger Warning for: Yelling, Referenced childhood trauma and Referenced domestic abuse. Be safe my children <3)

To others, the bathroom was many things.

It could be a place of cleanliness; washing hands, taking showers, ridding the dirt from your body. It could also be a place of privacy and relief, giving you a moment of silence when needed. Obviously, it has some other uses; storing medicine and bandaids in the cabinets, using the mirror to do your hair in the morning, it could be used for lots of things by many different people.

But for Tom, the bathroom was a safe space.

The bathroom, for him, was a place where no one was allowed in but himself. A place where the door is just thick enough to block out the noise. A place where no matter how long you’re in there, they aren’t allowed in.

Tom had squished himself in the cramped corner between the bathtub and the counter, the palms of his hands pressed against his ears hard enough to make them red. 

Edd and tord had gotten into a fight. Tom wasn’t exactly sure how it started, but he did know that he did not want to be involved in any way. 

Tom didn’t like to use the word “trauma”, but that didn’t mean he didn’t think about it often. Personally for him, he didn’t think the word was applicable to his situation. He never went through anything that he counted as “traumatizing”. The only real things that had happened was a lot of yelling between his parents, a few fistfights involving his dad and someone he could no longer recall, getting punished for just about anything and his mother leaving him. Surely there was no reason for him to worry so much about stupid things. Other people had it way worse than he did. He didn’t go through half the shit as other people.

But even so,

Why did it still feel so horrible?

Another object was thrown between edd and tord, causing a loud “crash” of noise which caused tom to shrink further into himself. His wide eyes brimmed with tears, his fingers digging into his scalp. He could hear their voices, loud and booming throughout the house, but he couldn’t focus on anything that they were saying. All he knew was that it was loud, so very, very loud. 

Faintly, he could feel the buzz of his phone from his back pocket. He stiffly released his fingers from their curled position in his hair, bringing his shaky hands downward to his pocket. He pulled out the phone, barely able to read whatever message was sent to him past the tremble of his hands and the brightness of the screen. Forcing himself to take a breath through his tight chest, he held the phone as still as he could to read it.

 _‘are u ok?’_

It was from matt.

Tom suddenly felt alone, so desperately alone in the cold, dark bathroom he hid himself in. His eyes figured now was the best time to release all of the tension in his head, letting the tears stream slowly from his eyes at a steady pace. His grip tightened on the phone.

 _‘ yeah im fine’_ he typed, before immediately deleting it. He couldn’t lie to matt. 

_‘No’_ was all he said, before hitting send. The phone dropped from his hands and clattered to the floor noisily. Edd and Tord's yelling had gotten louder and he couldn’t help but think that whatever feud they were having was because of him. 

He brought his knees up to his chest, curling his arms around them tight enough to make his chest hurt.

Just barely, he could hear the soft footsteps of someone approaching the bathroom door. A quiet knock resounded throughout the room, before the doorknob opened to reveal Matt, face distraught and body language nervous. 

Matt stepped into the room, closing the door gently behind him. Momentarily the fighting got louder, but returned to its original volume when the door was shut again. 

Matt kneeled in front of Tom, running a hand through his disheveled hair. Tom refused to meet Matt's gaze, feeling ashamed of himself. 

Without speaking, Matt sat down, using his hand to gesture for Tom to come to him, holding his arms out for a hug. Tom obliged, scooting out hesitantly from his hiding spot between the counter and the bathtub and into Matt's lap. 

Matt wrapped his long arms around Tom, holding him close and whispering soft reassurances into his ear. Tom just sat there, crying quietly into Matt's sleeve as the two sat there, alone in the cold, dark bathroom. 

Matt knew what it was like to have shitty parents. Obviously Matt's parents weren’t the same as Tom's, but that didn’t mean they were less shitty.

His parents were rich. When Matt still lived with them they owned a huge Victorian house, but not the old, decaying ones you would see on any old street. Theirs was nicely kept and had three floors and a basement. There were lots of things in it, “modern art” (Tom never understood modern art. A red square on a blank canvass? Anyone could paint that), fine china pottery, just a bunch of expensive nonsense in tom’s opinion.

But to Matt's parents, they were priceless artifacts. Matt was hardly allowed anywhere in the house, only common places like the kitchen, bathroom, living room, and his bedroom of course. Any time he was caught touching something he shouldn’t or being somewhere that was “off-limits”, they would smack him on the head and tell him to go to his room.

Apart from that, his parents were hardly around him, leaving him to learn how to do things on his own. Things like cooking, solving problems and being sociable were all things he was good at now, seeing as he had to learn how to do them all by himself growing up.

Matt hasn’t talked to his parents since he moved out.

Back in the present, Edd and Tord's fighting had died down significantly. The two of them had stormed off to their rooms, Edd probably pacing around with his hand over his face while tord was likely kicking stuff around and throwing things in his room.

Tom had finally stopped crying, but Matt still rocked them back and forth, figuring Tom still needed whatever comfort Matt was bringing him. 

Tom rubbed his eyes wearily, leaning back into Matt's embrace. 

“I’m sorry,” Tom mumbled, his voice strained.

“It’s okay,” Matt said simply, pushing his fingers through Tom’s hair. Tom liked that Matt knew how to make him feel better. He appreciated the fact that Matt would take time out of his day to make him feel okay. Matt was such a good person, always helping anyone however he could, putting his own needs aside to assist others. He didn’t deserve matt. No one deserved matt. 

“Thank you,” Tom whispered. He pressed his forehead into Matt's chest, sniffling.

Maybe things will get better someday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> argh, sorry that was so short. again, I promise the next chapter will be happier :((


	5. Powerade bottles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ! Minor trigger warning for: descriptions of puking, dry-heaving and anxiety !
> 
> (Also, in case you didn't know Powerade is like Gatorade except it's got less sugar and more vitamins/nutrients. It's a lot less sweet and a lot less popular, but I may or may not have a crippling addiction to them so let's give them some love)

To say that Tom was miserable was an overstatement.

Though, that didn’t mean he was any more happy with his situation.

Tom had never been one to sleep well; as a child his dreams had always been plagued by nightmares, and while in his teenage years the nightmares were less common, they were hastily replaced by sleepless nights thinking about homework and due dates and whatnot. Things thankfully were better for him after college, though, again, that didn’t mean bad things didn’t happen.

Tom had been going through a particularly bad spell recently. The issue came and went in waves, which usually lasted about a month at a time. Most nights, when his thoughts were loud, he would be able to shoo them off by humming a song as he drifted off to sleep. But during his bad spells, his thoughts would cluster and jumble until he didn’t know what he was thinking about anymore but everything was just loud and confusing.

To add to that, Tom had always been somewhat of a sensitive person, and that was saying for his physical health as well. The littlest things could set him off, whether it be a short five-minute drive to the grocery store, a snack at the wrong time or a single negative thought and just like that he would feel nauseous. Personally, it sucked. Tom hated the feeling of motion sickness (though speaking honestly, who didn’t?), and it didn’t help that he had an easily irritated stomach as well. 

And so here we have Tom, shivering listlessly in bed as he tries desperately to contain his thoughts. His half-asleep state did nothing to help his perplexing fever-dreams and he wasn’t sure if he was hot or cold or whatever so he kicked around aimlessly in his bedsheets to try to appease any of his body’s needs. 

As his mind spun, a bout of nausea worked its way up his throat again. At first he thought it would be just his body playing mean tricks on him again, but he soon felt the tell-tale taste of bile on his tongue and the saliva pooling between his teeth when he realized was actually going to throw up this time.

Clumsily, he untangled himself from his covers and stumbled his way to the bathroom, tripping over the blanket between his feet multiple times. He pushed his bedroom door open (well, more like he fell into it and it managed to get open) and made his way to the bathroom as quickly and quietly as he could, but seeing as most of his senses were in a practical daze he wasn’t sure if he was actually making noise or if was just his mind being loud.

Finally reaching his destination, he flipped the bathroom lights on and collapsed onto the toilet, an awful retching sound releasing from his throat soon after. 

Unsurprisingly, nothing came up. He hadn’t eaten much within the few hours before going to bed, already feeling the signs of another Bad Night coming up. He figured eating something would only make it worse, though he almost regretted it now, dry heaving was a much less pleasing option. 

Tom panted lightly, pressing his forehead against the rim of the toilet bowl. He felt hot, sticky with sweat and dizzy, but his body decided he didn’t get to have a break before he started gagging into the toilet once again. He coughed, catching a bit of spit in his throat on an inhale. His eyes brimmed with tears as he hacked as quietly as he could into his pajama shirt, praying to god he didn’t wake up any of his housemates. 

After he finished practically choking on himself, he inhaled deeply, letting it out in one slow, long breath. He read somewhere on the internet that deep breathing was supposed to help with anxiety or something, but honestly it did little to make him feel better. 

He wiped his mouth and eyes with the front/inside of his shirt sluggishly. He felt weak, tired, his ribs hurt from gagging and he could feel the emptiness in his stomach from the lack of sustenance it contained. In all honesty, he just wanted to fall asleep on the bathroom floor and wait till morning to deal with this shit, but he knew he was just being a baby and that he needed to get over it so he could go back to bed. 

Reluctantly, he pushed himself up off the ground, his legs shaking and his body still hunched over. His back felt sore and he was still severely nauseous and he feared standing up straight would just make everything worse. 

He wobbled out of the bathroom slowly, flicking off the lights gently on his way out. 

The hallway was dark when he passed through it, and he wondered how he’d managed to make his way to the bathroom so “gracefully” the first time. Maybe his brain was just on autopilot or something, he figured. 

Colours swirled his vision as he turned on the kitchen lights, his brain agreeing with him that it would be better if the lights stayed off. Even so, his foggy mind tried to make out the figures in the dark, causing him to see strange things like people and animals that danced and distorted around him. It almost felt as if they were speaking to him, whispering to him in a language he couldn’t comprehend. He tried to make sense of it all, but he was just so confused.

Reeling his brain back into the present, he just barely managed to reach a plastic bucket off the top shelf of the dish cabinet before his mind got the best of him again. His stomach lurched and he sank downward to the ground, placing a hand over his mouth as if he might puke again.

Tears flowed freely out of his eyes now; everything hurt, there was so much noise and too many colours and he couldn’t make sense of any of it. His mind swirled and he gagged into the bucket again, luckily not coming up with anything. 

He leaned back into one of the lower cabinets behind him, feeling oddly grateful for the fact they even had a floor. Though it may not be the cleanest seat in the world, it was sure as hell comfortable in the moment.

Suddenly there was a noise, a faint “pitter-patter” kind of noise that would usually signify footsteps. Tom, still not fully aware of his surroundings, opened his tearful eyes and scanned the room, grateful that his vision was starting to clear somewhat. Upon opening them, he saw a pair of pale feet, that of which attached to two legs clothed in red-plaid pajama pants. They stopped in front of Tom, standing still for a moment.

Tom tried to piece together this newfound information in his brain, but his brain couldn’t get past much other than the fact he could recognize the colour Red.

Tom sniffled, clutching his bucket to his chest in fear of puking again, staring blankly at the legs that stood before him. He felt small compared to them, as if the person they attached to was towering over him like a lion to a mouse. 

After a moment, the legs walked away, and the bright light of (what tom could only assume was) the refrigerator flooded the room, casting a shadow of the legs across the floor. The sound of the fridge closing filled his ears, and the light was gone. 

Tom’s mind was finally starting to clear a bit; objects around the room seemed less foreign and his thoughts untangled themselves into something a bit more comprehensible. Whoever was in the kitchen with Tom padded back over to him quietly, crossed their legs and then sat down in a cross-legged position next to tom. The kitchen was still dark and Tom was still trying to figure out what the hell was happening, so Tom couldn’t get the best look at the person’s face to see who it was. 

The figure then pushed something into tom’s hands, waiting for him to grab and hold onto it before retracting their own. Whatever it was that they handed him was cold and moist, and.. Plastic?

“It’s ah, a Powerade drink, or something.. for you.” the figure said, the thick norwegian accent giving away the fact that tord was sitting next to him. 

Tom felt somewhat baffled at the offer tord had given him. Usually it would be edd or matt that would do kind things for tom, not tord. Tord was usually the cause of his ailments, not the solution. 

Now Tom was even more confused than earlier.

“I hear that they are good for throwing up. They have vitamins and shit like that and good for hydration.” tord mumbled. By the sound of his voice, Tord was facing the opposite of tom. Tom absent-mindedly wondered how tord knew to buy something like this in advance. I mean, who can predict when someone else is going to be sick or not? 

“I hear you get up at night.” tord’s voice stayed monotone, but tom could feel his aura shift into a more concerned state. “I wonder why you always get up, and then i hear you puke.” tord shifted a little closer to tom. “I worried, so I got you something to drink as a cheer-up.” tord finally looked to face tom, wearing a small smile on his face. 

“Th-thanks,” Tom said, though it came out raspier than he intended due to his abused throat. Tord nodded, and faced the other way again. 

Tom’s stomach decided to ruin the moment, another wave of nausea flooding his system. Subconsciously he passed the sports drink to tord and heaved into the bucket, painfully aware of his muscles clenching throughout his body. It hurt, though he actually managed to puke something up this time. It wasn’t a lot, more just like a glorified loogie, but he hoped that getting something out of his system would appease his stomach.

He felt Tord’s hand rubbing his back soothingly as he gagged a few more times into the bucket, before collapsing onto Tord's shoulder. He was so, so tired. It took every strength he had left not to fall asleep right then and there. 

After giving Tom a minute to rest, tord patted him on the shoulder and mumbled something about getting into bed, to which Tom happily obliged. Tord stood up and offered his hand to tom, who took it graciously and managed to pull himself off the ground with some effort. His limbs trembled lightly and he still felt sweaty and gross, but he figured a bed was a lot more comfortable than sitting on the gross kitchen floor. 

Tom dumped whatever his stomach upturned into the sink, rinsed the bucket briefly but kept it close (just in case, he thought). Though tord was somewhat supporting a bit of tom's weight, he still hunched over in fear of becoming sick again. 

The walk to Tom's room felt like an eternity, but he was ever so grateful to be off the ground. He fell into his bed, forcing his body to relax for once. He could feel himself melting into the covers. He never realized how comfortable his bed actually was until now. 

Tord came in briefly to place one of tom’s strew blankets back on tom of him, pausing a moment to ask if tom needed anything else. Tom shook his head, feeling a lot better now. 

“Hey Tord?” he mumbled, catching tord on his way out the door.

“Yeah?” 

‘Thanks for everything. I really appreciate it.” Tom's face flushed lightly, feeling a bit ashamed that Tord had to go through all that for tom. 

“Anything for a friend.” tord smiled. “Goodnight, tom.” he said, before shutting the door.

“G'night.” 

  
  
  


The next morning Tom awoke to an aching stomach and a sticky forehead. 

He groaned, pushing himself upright in bed to look at the clock on his nightstand. ‘8:45’ it read, the green numbers flashing rhythmically on the small screen. 

He felt gross, smelly, greasy, whatever. Sighing, he got up and pulled a fresh sweatshirt and pants out of the closet before peeking his head out his bedroom doorway, waiting for the coast to clear so he could take his (much needed) shower in peace. 

Once content with his freshly-clean body, he placed his damp towel in the hallway hamper and made his way to the kitchen, already smelling Matt's burnt attempt at breakfast. Tom almost laughed; it was the same thing every day, though if you were observant enough you could tell Matt actually  _ was _ getting better at cooking.

Tom felt the need to take a pass on breakfast this morning, though that wasn’t entirely unusual. A lot of tom’s time was spent feeling sick, and when he wasn’t he usually didn’t feel hungry, causing him to skip a lot of meals. He knew it wasn’t good for him; he’d tried making a schedule for himself of when to eat and he'd tried carrying small snacks around, but he always ended up forgetting to eat them no matter how much he tried to shove it in his own face.

“Ah, morning tom!” Matt said frantically, waving away the smoke coming from what-looks-like-used-to-be-pancakes. Tom just hummed in reply, stopping only for a moment in the kitchen before making his way to the living room. 

Edd was seated on the far end of the couch, a cup of tea in hand as his eyes stared absently at the TV. Tom waved a good morning to Edd as well, who just smiled at him and returned to whatever was on TV. 

Soon tord was in the room too, bearing a coffee mug and an oversized shirt that read “i shit today”. Tom thought it was a stupid shirt, but laughed internally anyway. 

Tord stopped by the doorway to yawn, then went to the kitchen and opened a cabinet and then the fridge, pulling an item out at each destination. Tord brought the items into the living room and handed them to Tom, who took them hesitantly. In his hands was a small breakfast granola bar and the Powerade from last night, that of which was unopened and still cold. 

“Eat these. I know you are hungry.” was all he said, before he grabbed his coffee mug off the kitchen counter and disappeared into his room once again. 

Tom huffed, silently thankful for Tord’s concern. Apart from his usual cup of coffee, he likely wouldn’t have eaten today if not for him. 

Tom sat on the couch, shoving the granola bar into his front pocket and unscrewed the cap of the Powerade bottle. He took note of the fact that whatever flavour it was, the drink was blue. 

Maybe Tord wasn’t so bad afterall… 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this counts as "fluff", right?


	6. next time have a plan, idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. this was originally planned to be a nice, fluffy oneshot book to make people happy with cute stories, but it ended up just me working out emotional junk through these characters (*cough cough* tom). I'm sorry they're all so angsty, I never intended it to be this way but that's how it turned out I guess.  
> Trigger Warning for: implied child abuse, running away from home, astrophobia and crying. be safe guys <3

It’s been three days since Tom ran away.

To him it seemed like a lot longer, but who’s really counting?

He wasn’t surprised his stepdad didn’t file a missing kid report. If anything his stepdad probably forgot he even existed (or was at least pretending to). 

His friends, on the other hand, were worried out of their minds about him. They texted him near constantly every day, asking where he was, why he wasn’t at school, and if he was safe.

But Tom didn’t feel the need to respond. 

It’s not that he wanted to make his friends worry, but he just couldn’t find the energy to do it. He couldn’t find the energy to do a lot of things lately.

Hence the reason he ran away.

He just didn’t feel like going home anymore. He didn’t feel like trudging back to that same, worn-down hellscape he called home, back to the man that tormented him day after day since he was young. The walls of the house felt dirty, tainted, like the man had soiled them in a way. Tom just couldn’t handle it anymore.

So he left. After getting off the bus after school, he took a left instead of a right, leading in the opposite direction of the house. He didn’t plan on it, honestly, leaving him with little to supply himself with. Just a small wad of cash, the clothes on his back and yesterday’s geometry homework. 

His first day on his own was pretty much how you’d expect it: cold, not quite hungry, and boring. He mostly just walked around town, hoping to find somewhere suitable to sleep for the night. Sure, he could have stayed at Tord or Edd’s place, but he didn’t want to have to interact with them. He didn’t want to have to bother them with his problems, let alone explain why he needed a place to stay. 

So he wandered the streets, finally settling on a bench just outside of a local park. It was barely out of view from the park goers, but just far enough to make Tom feel like he wasn’t being watched by everyone in the world.

He used his backpack as a pillow and cried himself to sleep.

The next day Tom felt like crap. He was cold, he had a migraine, his body felt greasy and his stomach was practically eating itself. He thought briefly that he should take a shower, but sighed when he remembered there were no public showers in his area. 

So with a growling stomach and aching body, he picked up his (few) belongings and set out to find the nearest corner store.

He didn't have much money for food, so when he entered the small market he figured he should just buy the essentials. He settled for two bottles of water, a bag of chips and a one Cup Noodles. Fortunately he had a little bit of money left over, but he figured he should save that for something important.

It was only after leaving the store that he realized he couldn’t eat the Cup Noodles. He huffed. Stupid descision to buy a product that required a microwave. He’d have to portion out this bag of chips if he didn’t want hunger pains. 

After another tiring day of looking for a warmer place to sleep, Tom had already gotten through most of the bag of chips, feeling somewhat disappointed in himself. On top of that, he was more than halfway across town now, far from anywhere familiar with no luck of finding a warm sleeping area. 

And, Just His Luck™, it was starting to rain. 

Tom wanted to cry. To scream. Punch something. 

But instead, he padded behind a crusty dumpster in a piss-smelling alleyway, dropped his stuff on the ground, and put his head in his knees.

He wondered why he thought this was ever a good idea.

Day three and Tom's stomach was starting to hurt. He barely slept the night previous, partly because his mind was too active to sleep and partly because he was absolutely drenched. The rain didn’t let up that night, only pouring down harder as time went on. 

Tom didn’t want to move from his spot by the dumpster any time soon, but another seemingly homeless person crept into the alleyway at some point and Tom didn’t want to be involved in that guy’s business at all.

As soon as he snuck out of the alley, people around him gave him weird looks. He hadn't had anything to view himself in for a while, but he couldn only imagine how gross he must look. His hair was stringy and wet and clung to his forehead, his clothes stained an ugly brown from sitting in the mud. Sitting next to a dumpster for hours on end probably didn’t help with his smell either. 

Tom kept his head down as he passed the people. He was ashamed of himself.

“Excuse me, sir?” a woman’s voice called behind him, causing him to turn his head in a skittish manner. “Sorry but, are you okay?”

He eyed her cautiously, nodding hesitantly.

“Where are your parents?” she asked. Tom didn’t answer, but turned his head as if to find a way out of this conversation. “Do I need to call the police? We can help you find them.”

The police. Tom didn’t want any part in that.

Instead of responding to her, Tom just ran. He ran down the street, turning a corner, passing a row of houses, only stopping when he was met with the wired fence of some kind of factory or whatnot. 

Tom sank to the ground. What was he going to do? He was a total mess, he had no food, little money, and no home to turn to. 

Pressing his back against the metal fence, Tom pulled his knees to his chest and started to cry. Everything felt so hopeless. He shouldn’t have run away, he should have asked to stay at a friends house, he should have brought more money, he should have thought this through.

It was dark out, Tom didn’t realize how late it was until a flash of lightning flashed the sky, illuminating the dark lot of land tom wallowed in. 

Tom flinched at the sound of thunder; one of his age-old fears. He didn’t know what about it was so scary, but hearing/seeing it whilst crying in an unfamiliar place far from home and in the freezing rain, it was practically a living nightmare for him.

Tom trembled and whimpered as more thunder shook the skies, doing everything in his power to feel safe. He tried telling himself it was all just a bad dream, that any second now he would wake up in a nice, warm bed surrounded by his friends with food and warm clothes on his back, but it was no use. Tom wasn’t aware of himself anymore. It felt something like an out-of-body experience, whatever he was feeling. He could hear himself crying and he was aware of his surroundings, but he couldn’t feel or see anything his body was doing.

“Tom? Is that you?” an urgent voice broke him out of the moment.

Was that edd? How did he get here? 

Did Tom call him..? When did he do that?  
Tom couldn’t help but sob at the sound of Edd's voice. The weight of the last three days, weeks, _years_ felt like they were all crashing down on him in that moment and all Tom could do was watch everything go down with it.

“Tom, we were so worried about you! You didn’t answer any of our texts or calls, matt though you were dead ad tord--”

“Edd, p-please.. I’m s-sorry i..” tom whimpered, another sob bubbling out of his sore throat.

“Hey, hey-- it’s okay,” Edd cooed, toning his voice down after hearing tom’s pathetic words. “Where are you? I can come pick you up.” Tom curled in on himself further as another wave of thunder hit, the lightning lighting up the heavy rain that accompanied it.

“I-i don’t know i-” he paused, forcing open his eyes to try and take in his surroundings. “I don’t know-- i’m s- _ scared _ , edd please--”

“Shh, it’s okay tom, take a breath and focus on where you are. What does it look like?” edd said. Tom could faintly hear Edd's car engine starting on the other line.

“I-it’s empty, there’s a metal f-fence and no grass i-- i don’t  _ know _ -” Tom started, starting to pull at his hair. 

“Calm down tom, are there any buildings nearby?” edd asked. Tom raised his head stiffly to look around.

“Th-there’s a factory thing or something, i-it looks like a lumber mill or-or something like that..” Tom trailed off, breathing heavily into the phone.

“I think i know where you are. I’m on my way, do you want me to stay on the line?” Edd asked, but Tom couldn’t get an answer out before his phone died.

Within minutes Edd arrived at the location, finding Tom hunched over near a somewhat empty lot of land currently being unused by whatever company owned it. Edd quickly scooped Tom up and brought him back to his car.

“Tom, what happened to you?” edd noted how dirty and odious tom was as he curled up in the passenger seat of edd’s car. Tom didn’t answer him. 

They drove to Edd's house, Tom starting to calm down on the drive there. He shook like a leaf as Edd carried him inside, setting him on the couch to grab a pair of fresh clothes for Tom to wear. He handed Tom the clothes and a fresh towel, leading him to the bathroom to shower. Once he finished, Edd let him take his bed, only for him to pass out almost immediately after he laid down. Edd watched over him, making sure he didn’t do anything stupid while edd wasn’t looking. 

When tom woke up, edd questioned him about what happened, and tom just started to cry. He didn’t know what to say. Should he tell Edd about his stepdad? How he hated being home so much it physically hurt? How he felt like he couldn’t ask anybody for help because nobody would understand?

Edd didn’t question why Tom cried, but offered whatever comfort he could give. And Tom was grateful. He didn’t deserve to have a friend like edd. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that was bad. and probably unrealistic. I dunno, I've never run away. constructive criticism would be nice.


End file.
